10. Santi #2
I do not stop. I suck the clit into my mouth, pulling on it, flicking my tongue against it.
I taste her slick, thick juices coating my lips.
My thumbs press into the creases of her thighs, holding her open, ensuring she cannot escape the onslaught.
She thrashes against the wall, her hips bucking forward, trying to get closer, trying to ease the unbearable tension building inside her.
I slide two fingers deep into her dripping wetness.
Her walls are incredibly tight. Scalding hot. They clench around my digits instantly, welcoming the intrusion. I curl my fingers, dragging them along her upper wall, finding that deep, ridged spot. I pump my fingers in and out of her soaking pussy while my mouth continues to ravage her clit.
The dual stimulation shatters her control. She starts to climax, her body locking up rigid against the timber wall. Her pussy clenches rhythmically, violently around my fingers. She cries out a long, broken wail of pure pleasure, her head falling back against the logs.
I stay between her thighs, feeling her tremble, letting her ride out the intense aftershocks.
When her legs begin to tremble, threatening to give out, I stand up.
I lift her in my arms, carrying her the two steps to the heavy radio desk. I sweep my arm across the surface, knocking the topographical maps, the scattered brass casings, and the ham radio microphone onto the floor. I set her down on the edge of the sturdy timber desk.
I undo my belt with shaking hands. I drop my pants and boxer briefs, kicking them aside.
My cock springs free, painfully hard and slick with precum. The cold air of the cabin hits my heated skin, but I feel nothing but the furnace of the woman sitting in front of me.
I step between her spread legs. I grip her hips, pulling her right to the very edge of the desk so her wet pussy is lined up perfectly with my rigid cock.
I look at her. Her chest is heaving. Her lips are swollen and kissed red. Her eyes are dark with lust, locked onto mine. She does not look away. She never looks away.
"I am going to fill you," I tell her, my voice low and rough in the quiet room. "I am going to stretch you, and I am going to show you exactly what it means to be mine."
"Do it," she demands, her voice sassy and fierce even now. "Stop talking and do it."
God, I love her defiance. It makes the possession that much sweeter.
I grip the base of my cock and guide the blunt, purple head against her slick opening. She is so wet, dripping her arousal down her thighs, begging for me.
I push forward.
The tight walls stretch around the girth of my cock, the hot, slick muscle resisting for a fraction of a second before yielding to my blunt force. She gasps sharply, her fingers digging into my biceps.
I drive my hips forward in one continuous, powerful thrust, sinking into her to the hilt.
I am buried inside her tight, scalding wetness. It is a physical shock to my system. The intense heat, the friction, the way her inner walls clench and grip my shaft as if trying to keep me there forever. I close my eyes, my head dropping back as a rough, guttural groan rips from me.
"Fuck," I breathe. "Fuck, you feel so good."
"Move," she begs, her hips tilting up to take me deeper. "Santi, please."
I pull back, dragging the length of my cock out until only the head remains inside her slick wetness, and then I slam my hips forward, burying myself to the hilt again.
The rhythm establishes itself instantly.
A deep, pounding cadence. I grip her hips, anchoring her to the desk, and I fuck her with relentless, devastating force.
Every thrust is a claiming. Every withdrawal is a promise to return.
The slap of my flesh against hers echoes in the cabin, a wet sound that drowns out the howling blizzard outside.
She takes every inch of me. Her pussy is a tight, slick glove, milking my cock with every stroke.
I study her face, the pleasure warping her beautiful features.
I watch the fierce independence melt into beautiful surrender.
She gives herself to me, allowing me to take control, allowing me to break her apart and put her back together.
"Reese," the name leaves me rough with every thrust.
"Yours," she gasps, her head tossing from side to side. "I'm yours."
I increase the speed, pounding into her with violent, desperate urgency. My vision edges with red. The friction is unbearable, building a coiled tension in my balls. I feel her walls start to stutter and clench around my cock, signaling her approaching climax.
"Come for me, Reese," I command, sliding my hand between our bodies and pressing my thumb hard against her swollen clit.
The added pressure pushes her over the edge instantly.
She screams my name, her entire body locking up.
Her pussy clenches down on my cock with crushing, agonizing force, milking me, drawing the seed up to the brink.
I ride her climax, thrusting deep into her tight, spasming walls, feeling the hot gush of her wetness bathing my shaft.
But I am not done. I refuse to end it here.
I pull out of her, making her whimper in protest.
I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her off the cleared desk.
She clings to me, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. I carry her the few steps to the bearskin rug spread in front of the iron woodstove.
The fire inside the open stove door is blazing, casting flickering orange light across the heavy, dusty fur and the cold stone surround.
I lower us down onto the soft fur. The heat of the fire radiates against our bare skin, a stark contrast to the freezing blizzard raging outside the thick log walls.
I lay her on her back, her hair fanning out in a dark halo against the dark fur. The firelight dances across her curvy, flushed body. I kneel between her legs. I grab her knees and push them back toward her shoulders, opening her to my gaze, exposing her wet, swollen pussy.
I position my throbbing cock at her entrance. I lean forward, bracing my weight on my forearms beside her head, and I slide inside her in one long, slow, agonizingly deep thrust.
Reese arches her back, a long, trembling moan escaping her lips as I fill her to the bottom. The new angle allows me to hit even deeper, my cock stretching the very end of her canal.
I start to move again. Slower this time. Deeper. Deliberate.
The frantic adrenaline of the gunfight has burned off, leaving behind a profound, terrifying emotional vulnerability. I am inside her. I am surrounded by her heat, her scent, her life.
I stare down into her dark eyes. They are clear, wide, and focused on me. She sees the monster. She sees the killer. She sees the man who just slaughtered five men outside her door, and she doesn't flinch. She opens her legs wider for me.
The words rise in my throat, unbidden, unstoppable. The truth I have kept locked away for years. The truth that Dominic could not pull from me, that Matteo could not feed, that Dante could not fight.
"I have been a dead man," I tell her, my voice rough, broken, matching the slow, deep thrusts of my hips. "A walking corpse. For twenty years, I watched my family grieve. I watched them rage. I watched them build an empire out of vengeance, and I felt nothing. Nothing but the cold."
I pull back, then drive deep, making her gasp.
"I was empty," I continue, the words tearing out of my chest, a confession meant only for her. "I was a machine. I came up to this mountain not caring whether I made it back. But then you crashed that helicopter. You looked at me. You fought for each breath."
I thrust again, my cock stretching her tight walls, the friction building the unbearable pressure in my groin to a breaking point.
"You brought me back, Reese. You are the only thing in this world that makes me bleed. You are the only thing that makes me feel alive. You own me. Entirely."
She does not say it back. She does not offer platitudes or promises of eternity. That is not who she is. She is a survivor, forged in isolation.
Instead, she shows me.
She reaches up, her hands framing my jaw.
Her thumbs stroke over my salt-and-pepper beard.
She pulls my face down, lifting her hips to take my cock impossibly deeper, and kisses me with a fierce desperation that shatters the last remaining wall inside my mind.
Her nails rake down my back, leaving stinging trails that I welcome.
She wraps her legs tighter around my waist, locking me inside her, claiming me just as violently as I am claiming her.
It is what I need.
The coiled tension snaps.
I pound into her, my thrusts losing all rhythm, becoming erratic, desperate, wild. I cannot get deep enough. I cannot get close enough. I want to crawl inside her skin and stay there forever.
Reese tosses her head back, her throat exposed in the firelight. "Santi—now. Please, Santi, now."
Her walls clamp down on my cock, a violent, crushing grip that drags the climax out of my soul.
I roar her name, driving my hips forward and pinning her to the floor. I erupt inside her. I pump wave after wave deep into her, filling her. The orgasm rips through my entire body, a physical shockwave that leaves me trembling and gasping for air.
She comes around me, her pussy pulsing against my hilt, milking the last drop of my release. Her cries echo off the stone hearth, a beautiful, unrestrained sound of pure pleasure.
We lie there in the aftermath, our chests heaving together, our skin slick with sweat. I collapse my weight onto her, burying my face in the crook of her neck. I feel the steady, strong beat of her pulse against my lips.
I do not pull out. I stay buried deep inside her, my softening cock still resting flush within her.
The blizzard continues to scream outside, throwing snow and ice against the barricaded windows. The Bellanti bodies freeze in the snowdrifts around the perimeter. The extraction team is still grounded, waiting on a dawn window.
I do not care.
The world outside this cabin does not exist. The war, the family, the vengeance—it all fades into irrelevance.
I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her tight against my chest. She rests her hand on the back of my head, her fingers tangling in my silver-streaked hair.
I close my eyes.
For the first time in twenty years, I am not cold.